


No one can walk away truly alive

by Meruryan



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: ...until he did, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Imprisonment, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Shiro never escaped, What-If, warnings for everything you might expect from Shiro's Fun Year
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-05
Updated: 2018-03-17
Packaged: 2018-11-09 11:59:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11104137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meruryan/pseuds/Meruryan
Summary: Ulaz doesn't take the risk, and Shiro is left at the mercy of the arena and Haggar. He survives because there's nothing else left for him....Until the new Paladins of Voltron find out who The Champion is.





	1. Chapter 1

Shiro hoped the arm would be it. They had given _(made)_ him a weapon, fused their will to his bones. Maybe that was all they wanted, a more interesting fighter to entertain the crowds.

(It didn't feel logical - it was too much to waste on a doomed gladiator. So he knew. And kept hoping.)

They dragged him to a table again, and he fought and cursed and never gave an inch. Inside, his heart was sinking. He could do nothing. Nothing, except remain defiant. Despair clawed at him, but none of it would leak from his face or voice.

Once they've strapped him down, a guard starts sedating him. He struggles, tells them to stop, asks what more they want.

(He doesn't want to know, doesn't want, no, no, _no-_ )

There's a galra with metal over its mouth, like a surgical mask. It looks at him, looks in his eyes, and stills. Its hand rises, as if to stop the guard from sedating him further. But it hesitates, and lowers the hand again. It turns away, snapping orders.

The world blurs and fades, slipping from him, out of control. Pain comes soon. It's distant, and yet reaches to the core of him. It rips, and shreds, and tears away...

*

Haggar makes sure Shiro knows exactly what they are doing to him. Some time after they started reinforcing his skeleton, she also makes sure he knows exactly why. Shiro wishes it was arrogant of them to tell him. He knows it's not.

He will fight them until his death. Until the last piece of his willpower is spent, he will never even think of submitting to them. He will cling to every thought that is his, every memory of home, every scrap of skin and drop of blood. They may be taken from him, but he will never give them. Sometimes he almost wishes he was weak, that he couldn't help but break. Maybe they wouldn't care about him if he was. But his defiance in the face of this is at the core of him. He could not give it up if he wanted to.

(What if they can tear it out of his soul like they have torn his flesh and nerves _and memory and-_ )

Until the day he finally loses everything he is, he will not give them an inch. He will survive the arena and the prison and the changes, but he will not bend to Haggar's wishes and designs. Never.

He knows it will not be enough.

*

The other prisoners call him Champion.

Some of the Galra mock him with the title. Sometimes Haggar calls him that, making the shadows of the word stretch over his future. To Shiro the word sounds like knights and tourneys and honor, but all that rings false in this pit. All the things that could be meant by it swirl in his head and make him sick. He tries not to answer to it.

But the other prisoners...

Shiro is distantly aware that there are stories about him. He's not sure how they paint him, exactly - it's not like they tell them to him. He could guess, but he'd rather not.

(Maybe they think him their Champion? Someone who never breaks, who refuses, again and again. Who never loses, not the fights, not his will, not his resolve. Maybe they look up to him.

Maybe not. Don't think about it. Don't. _Don't._ )

But they whisper when near him, and stay away when they can. Every time he appears with more metal and less of himself, there is deep silence and miles and miles of space around him. There is fear as he grows more deadly, and respect that he still holds his head high. Or that's how it was when he still talked to them, at least. Before they started to pit him against the ones he talked to the most. He started to avoid everyone, scaring them away when he had to. It was better that way.

It was worse that way.

His matches are becoming more and more rare. The few he gets are tests, not shows but true battles against dangerous opponents. He could probably risk getting closer to the other prisoners again without having to face them soon after in the arena, but it's too late now. He's something wild and feral in their eyes, respected from a distance. The damage has been done.

He used to love encouraging them when he could. He said the words that needed to be said, and the ones that needed to be heard. There was a reason for him to stay steady and calm, to be a rock for them to lean on when their spirit threatened to break. He did well in it, the weight of their trust easier to bear than any other burden here. It meant something.

Just another thing for them to cut and rip and _shatter_.

*

"Shiro?"

He jerks, and stares at me, surprised. "That is your name, is it not?" I continue, hopeful. It had taken me a long time to track down someone who knew it. The Champion had not been called that by anyone for a long time, and the prisoners here were always changing. None stayed long, except for one.

The Champion, Shiro, shifted once before speaking. "Yes. It is." His gaze is intense, but I do not move. "Are you not worried I will tear you apart for daring to approach me?"

My face twitches in nervous amusement. "No, because I notice things, and see things that are hidden under the paint. I've always been good at it." And not much else.

He relaxes some, and tilts his head to the side. His every move is slow and calm, controlled. Careful. "In that case, you're free to join my company."

I think his choice of words odd, but assume it to be a verbal custom of his race. I sit down on the ground in front of him, far enough that reaching to touch would not be easy.

I ask him questions. I know I will not survive here very long, and have been gathering other knowledge to distract myself from that certainty. It works, in a way. I feel like I'm doing something useful. Finding out things about the mysterious Champion who haunts the prison has been especially distracting. I had to listen to the spaces between words, and of course observe him myself. Now I just want to know what his story really is.

He gives me advice for the fights, and I know it will help, but not enough to save me. He tells me about friends he used to have here. He tells me about wounds and fights and rare, bright moments of joy. He even spoke some about his people and home.

I kept coming back, asking more, whenever they gave us time in the shared area. I knew now where he came from and how he became the Champion, but I still wanted to know more. Or maybe it wasn't about the knowledge anymore. It was a comfort, maybe. He didn't seem to mind talking. His words were always measured and calm, but he didn't shy away from the pain and horror. He didn't seem worried about anything, really.

I observed him as he spoke, because that's what I did best. I had theorized that he was so measured and calm as not to scare me or the others, but as he became used to my presence he still never lost that bearing. I understood it was just how he was, steady and unshakable. I started to wish I could've met him before all this. When he gave me advice, there was an air of command I couldn't help but respect.

Eventually, I carefully asked about the modifications he had been given. I had been wary about this part, because I was certain it would be an open wound for him. But he hardly blinked, telling me anything I wished to know. I doubted he had grown to trust me very much, which meant he simply didn't care anymore. I felt like that was maybe worse.

He told me about Haggar, and how it started with the arm. He listed some of the things he knows they did to his insides, and some he can only suspect. He told of the times he woke up and had to figure out what they had done to his body, what had been cut away and put in. He told of the times they never put him under, and he could instead feel what was done as they worked. His face was unreadable as he spoke, his voice neutral. I felt sick.

He trailed off, but I didn't ask for more. I wasn't sure if I wanted to know more. After a while, he kept going on his own.

"I didn't have this, before," he said and his tail curled gently with a slight mechanical whir. It made soft clicks as the metal parts moved against each other. "It's been a long time since they put it on me, but... humans don't have tails. I doubt I'll ever get used to it." There was a stretch of silence. I thought about the way the tail never acted like an actual limb. It balanced him when he walked, and moved out of the way when he sat, but otherwise seemed lifeless.

He started to scratch the ground absently. His hand hummed mechanically as it moved. He didn't seem to notice. "More recently, I've wondered about my eyes. I can see better, but they don't feel different. Haggar isn't always there to taunt me before they start, so I'm not sure... I could maybe tell if I had a mirror, but nothing here reflects well enough..."

I wondered if he wanted me to describe them to him. I almost asked him, but stopped myself. He looked lost in thought, but not absent. He would ask if he thought it would help. ...Or if he really wanted to know. Perhaps terrans focused on eyes when interacting with others like some other races with similar facial shapes. I thought it best not to pour the klakka in my lap without asking. Instead, I waited.

A feeling rose up, saying that the steely, gleaming grey sheen of his eyes was a strange thing to occur naturally. I didn't pay it attention.

Eventually, he went on. "They've also been doing something to my back. Setting up for something big. I think... I won't be here for much longer."

*

His prediction proves true in only a few more sleep cycles. He is taken away, and I don't see him again. The witch has taken him to finish her work on his body, and then whatever else she has planned for him.

Distantly, I'm afraid of what he might be turned into. If the galra finally break him, they will gain an invaluable asset. Mostly I wonder if they ever will.

I observe. That is what I do. There had been cracks in Shiro, but not in the right places for the galra. If they break him wrong, they lose everything that makes him valuable. They know it and will try to avoid that, but I'm not sure they can. I had seen steel in his soul, in an ironic reflection of his changed body. He might self-destruct. He might never break.

I survive a few more battles, thanks to Shiro's advice. As I had known, my body eventually fails me and death comes for me. I do not wish for my own survival - I'm not sure I would even want it if it was possible now. Instead, I wish with all my mind and soul, hoping against hope, that it might be his chains that break first. Maybe they overlook something, or he tricks them, or he is rescued. Anything.

There have been worse last thoughts, I'm sure.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "...they found a popular human fighter in the gladiator arena the Galra used for entertainment. The pictures and videos showed a figure recognizable as the pilot of the Kerberos mission, Takashi Shirogane."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't done with this, apparently, so this is a oneshot no more. More may or may not follow eventually. For now it is as it is.

It took a long time for Lance and Hunk to befriend Pidge. Lance had always thought they had been weirdly distant to their flight team buddies, but once they revealed who they were and what they were doing, he gets why they would be. Lance doesn't know what he'd do if he had family members lost in space under strange circumstances but crafting a false identity to search for them would probably be the least of it. In fact, it was kind of amazing that Pidge ended up trusting Hunk and Lance at all with her secret. Maybe they had forced her hand a little bit when things kept piling up, but it was still a lot of trust that she'd placed on them.

In any case, after months of working together during classes, Lance and Hunk started helping Pidge with her personal mission. Eventually, their investigations took them to strange energy traces and Mr. Mullet with his conspiracy board. From there they went and checked out some lion carvings in a cave and the rest, as they say, is space history.

As it happens, however, four paladins does not a Voltron make.

The lions chose their paladins, but as the princess received their choices through space magic, the Black Lion stayed silent. Since there was not much to be done about it, they decided to get the other lions first and worry about a fifth pilot later. "Later" ended up happening a bit faster than they had hoped as the Galra showed up much sooner than expected. With little option, Allura went to communicate with The Black Lion as the others were getting Red for Keith, and she was eventually accepted to pilot. Forming Voltron, however, was a failure. In the end they managed without, but Lance at least felt there was a lingering taste of defeat in the air. There was fear and uncertainty among the newly named paladins, and Lance had the sinking feeling that they were far, far out of their depth.

After the battle Allura stayed with Black for a long time. She came back with news. It wasn't good.

"The problem is that paladin bonds are not a matter of choice, entirely. The Black Lion understands our strife very well but our quintessence simply does not match."

Allura was clearly distressed about this but pressed on with all the tact of royalty.

"I'm afraid it means this arrangement is not sustainable. Piloting Black drained my energy badly, and I doubt we'll be able to form Voltron. It demands much of the black paladin in specific, and an imperfect bond will not be able to take the strain."

Allura hid it well, but she was clearly disappointed and ashamed. The paladins stood around awkwardly while Coran comforted Allura with quiet words of reassurance.

Even without the Black Paladin issue, the team was pretty far from working well together. Or at all. The fight had been a disaster of close calls and tensions were flying pretty high all around. Coran and Allura tried to help, but no-one was feeling great about their situation. Lance tried to remain positive about being in space with aliens and flying a cool lion ship, but mostly he felt scared and homesick. If they got into another fight like that there was no guarantee they’d pull out ahead. By general agreement they decided to lay low and work on solving any problems they could.

During that time, Pidge remained resolved to find clues about her missing family. A bit of digging gave no clues about the whereabouts of Sam and Matt Holt, but she did find something else. A popular human fighter in the gladiator arena the Galra used for entertainment. The pictures and videos showed a figure recognizable as the pilot of the Kerberos mission, Takashi Shirogane.

Keith, who apparently knew Shirogane, immediately insisted they go and rescue him. He made it clear he’d do it alone if no-one helped him. Lance couldn’t deny rescuing a captured human – and his personal hero at that – didn’t sound appealing. Pidge and Hunk agreed with varying levels of certainty. Allura and Coran tried to convince them to at least wait until they had more experience piloting the lions, but they didn’t have much luck. In this, the humans were in agreement – this rescue mission was something they wanted to get done, as soon as possible.

With some more digging Pidge found Haggar's research lab which was apparently the last known location of the Empire’s new favorite gladiator and test subject. The videos of Shirogane’s fights had shown an increasing amount of cybernetics over time which added to the urgency the team felt the mission required. The lab turned out to be on an uninhabited planet in the middle of nowhere. A lucky transmission they caught also revealed that Haggar herself was busy and away, most likely at the side of the Emperor, which meant there was no reason to delay. With some preparations and a simple plan they set out for their first real mission.

The plan, in all its glory, was distraction and infiltration.

Since the Green lion now had stealth it was the obvious choice for the infiltration part. Keith insisted on going with Pidge to find Shiro, as did Lance. This left Hunk to play the part of a distraction. Allura opted to stay on the castle, flying in with Black only if needed.

Everything was going smoothly, bickering notwithstanding, and it seemed like they even had some luck on their side. Allura and Coran were monitoring enemy communications and informed them that Hunk's explosive distraction had apparently set loose some monster that had been held in the base.

"It is perhaps some creature created or experimented on by Haggar, but now its presence works in our favour. They're focusing on containing it, and it doesn't seem to be going great, so you'll have plenty of time to free your fellow human. The beast's rampage is heading away from the prison area, so you won't get caught in the fight."

Everything was going smooth as silk, and the team didn't even run into any guards since they were apparently busy fighting. As they got closer to the cells, they only found some wrecked robots. "That creature really took these things apart. I wonder if it has, like, huge claws of something," Lance mused aloud as they passed two sparking metal halves that were still connected by some wiring. "You can go and look at its claws real close once we get Shiro out of here," Keith snapped, clearly tense. "Yeah, yeah..." Lance sighed to himself. He wanted to rescue his hero from aliens too, Keith. No need to bite a guy's head off.

They got to the cells quickly after that. There was only a single corridor, with cell doors on both sides. There was one door that was open near the far end with a body on the floor next to it. Keith immediately sprinted towards it, while Lance and Pidge followed, quickly checking the cells on the way. They were all empty.

They reached Keith, who was staring into the open cell, frozen. Lance noted that the body was a Galra guard - not a robot, and very, very clearly not alive - and came next to Keith to have a look inside the cell.

There was another body inside. For a second, Lance choked on fear, but then he recognized the body as another Galra. Not human. Also very dead, like its buddy.

Keith was shaking. He turned around and started pacing the hallway, checking cells, apparently moving simply to have something to do. "He's somewhere close, he has to be. He... got away in the commotion, we just have to find him." It sounded like Keith was trying to keep himself together. Lance shared a worried look with Pidge, then turned back to the cell. This one had clearly been in recent use unlike the other ones. Other than the body and associated mess, the only thing really out of place was some scrap that looked like restraints, now broken.

Suddenly, Lance put the clues together. Blood running cold, he turned back to Pidge and breathed, "It's not a monster."

Pidge looked at him for a second, then clearly realized the same thing Lance had. Her expression fell, face going even paler than usual. Lance took a step back, then another. He looked at both of the corpses, then turned to look in the direction the broken sentries had been in. Another step.

Keith snapped from his pacing and turned to Lance. "What?" he asked, eyebrows furrowing, breath catching.

"It's not a monster!" Lance yelled for everyone else through the comms as well as for Keith. He took off running back the way they came, ignoring the questions they asked him at the same time, ignoring everything but the trail of destruction his hero had torn through the base.

What he found at the end was a brutal fight. Every remaining guard and sentry on the ship seemed to be gathered at a hall, a hangar of some sort, and trying to subdue a single opponent. A human-shaped blur danced through the room, leaving behind an impression of black, white, steely grey and glowing purple, along with torn apart enemies.

Lance froze for a few moments, the sight causing a mix of emotions, but shook it off and started shooting at the nearest Galra fighters. Keith and Pidge burst in, and immediately joined the fight.

*

As the last of the Galra go down, Lance and his teammates turn their attention on the prisoner they came to free. He is standing crouched, prepared to pounce on them at the first sign of danger. His right hand, entirely metallic, is no longer glowing but remains raised. There are too many things wrong with the picture he presents in comparison to what he used to look like - to humans in general - and Lance can't focus on any single detail, everything is just mixing together into a horrifying tale of mutilation and _wrongness._ It's like an awful "spot the differences" image comparison in his mind, and the knowledge of how it all must have happened is making him sick.

But it's Shirogane. His face is the same, except where it's not, and there's recognition in his- in his eyes- though he still isn't lowering his guard. Lance sees his eyes fix on Keith, and there's no surprise, just a firm "Keith?" that's more a statement than a question. His hand remains up.

Keith is- Lance can't tell, but he's sure Keith is a lot of things right now. He takes a step towards Shirogane that looks more like a stumble, but doesn't approach, hesitant. "Yeah, it's- I came to find you, Shiro," he manages, eyes wide, voice unsteady. Lance can tell he's not going to manage much more than that right now, and they really should get out even if most of the Galra here are lying dead around them.

"We're here to rescue you, Lieutenant," Lance braves, drawing the piercing grey gaze on himself. "We have a ship waiting and everything, so we can just get out of here. We came to get you out, we're humans." Lance bites his tongue. _Why did I say that? He's not blind, he knows Keith, obviously we're humans._

Shiro considers those claims for a moment, then slowly nods and relaxes his stance some. "Fine. Let's go." Lance loos to Pidge, who has been until now studying Shiro intently, eyes sharp and hungry. Pidge returns the look, for a moment in complete understanding with Lance. Then she says, "Right, this way," and turns to lead them towards the Green Lion.

The trip back to the Castle is tense and quiet. Shiro shows as much surprise at seeing a huge robot lion ship as he has shown to anything else, meaning none, and now stands still and alert, back against a wall. Pidge focuses on piloting, Keith focuses on staring at Shiro, face unreadable but intense, and Lance tries to feel happy about the fact that he has rescued _the Takashi Shirogane._ It's not working out. Hunk has already retreated to the Castle, and the comms are silent.

Hunk, Allura and Coran are waiting for them in the Green Lion's hangar. Allura steps in to be all diplomatic and proper. "Greetings, and welcome aboard the Castle of Lions. I am Princess Allura, and-"

Shiro had been taking in the new environment with restless energy, but now directs his attention solely to Allura. He cuts her off, urgent and firm. "You have command on this ship? Can you outrun the Galra?”

Before Allura can respond, Keith steps in, looking determined now. “Shiro, look at me.” He does, his face revealing nothing. Keith holds eye contact and takes a deep breath. “Focus on me. It’s over. You’re not a prisoner, there’s no danger, no one will hurt you. We’re safe. Remember the last time we talked, before you left for Kerberos? Just focus on that, Shiro, okay? You know me, and I’m right here, and we’re safe.”

While Keith speaks, Shiro freezes. After a few long, tense moments of silence he lets out a deep breath and unfreezes into what feels like a different person. The scary focus and the almost predatory stance are gone. Suddenly he's human again, the young pilot who left for Kerberos recognizable now. Lance hadn't even realized how eerie Shiro had been, until suddenly he's not. “Keith,” he exhales, and stumbles towards him. Lance spots Keith’s expression crumbling before he is hidden behind Shiro’s bulk, the two of them holding each other up more than hugging.

Lance feels like he can finally breathe again, the horrible tension finally gone. Now, he feels the relief and glee at finding and rescuing his hero from aliens. His stomach still twists at the sight of... the many things that were done to him, but he was alive, and hugging mullet-head, and things would be okay. Lance crosses his arms to stop them from shaking and tells himself it's just relief. Of course it'll be okay.

**Author's Note:**

> This has been a cry of help for someone to please come and talk to me about their headcanons concerning Shiro and his Fun Year.  
> No, actually it's just an expression of my sadism.  
> The title is from Anberlin's Someone Anyone.


End file.
